The Fugitive Suite
by MajorSam
Summary: They would leave this room as new people but she needed one last time as them. Little did they know, they were not alone. Veritas insert/what if.


A/N: Written specifically upon detailed request from my dear friend C0bwebb. "Veritas" was flawless but she wanted to read a slightly different take on what could have happened in The Fugitive Suite. Beware of creepiness.

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The need started as Castle turned around to leave. Just for a little while… but to leave nonetheless. And suddenly Kate couldn't let him. Not yet. When he came back with car secured that was it. They would be off to start their new lives. No, not new lives, just… a new chapter.

"We'll be back." He said.

But she didn't want to leave yet.

"Wait!" she called out and he paused halfway out the door.

"Castle…" she moved towards him.

They would leave this room with new looks, new attitudes, new mission. But if she was forced to leave behind Castle and Beckett she just needed one time, one more time as _them_. As the people she knew they were supposed to be. Castle and Beckett.

Kate and Rick.

The couple who'd been fighting for almost six years against and for each other. The couple who were getting married in two weeks. She needed them to be them just one last time before they ran. No, they weren't running, they weren't hiding. They were simply waiting, and planning. Being smart and responsible like he so badly wanted. She could give that to him, acquiesce to his desperate need to take her away and keep her safe for a little while longer. But first she needed _him_.

"Come here," she commanded softly.

He hesitated but came, the door clicking shut behind him.

"What's up?" he asked quietly, walking right up to her and laying his hands on her waist.

She answered with her mouth on his and he stiffened.

"Kate…"

"Please, Castle," she murmured against his lips. "Just one last time."

"No," he pulled back sharply. "Not last."

She bit her lip in frustration, couldn't find the right words. She floundered for too long, time seeming to tick faster with every second. They were fugitives, hunted but she _needed_ him, to ground her, to remind her what they were fighting for.

"I just need you," she finally said, her pleading eyes boring into his. She saw the physical crumble of his resolve reflected in his eyes.

"Kate," he whispered.

She sealed her lips against his once more and he groaned, his hands tightening around her, gripping so hard it hurt.

"Yes," she breathed and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He groaned again and held her tighter, coiled his solid frame around her as if his body could protect her against any and all threats. She sometimes thought it could.

Kate bit down on his lip and he grunted in surprise, his body jerking against hers and it was her turn to moan. He wanted her so badly already. She could feel it.

"Castle," she moaned, their tongues tangling fiercely. "Please!"

In the next instant she was lifted clear off the ground, a shocked exhale hitting Castle's neck as he swung her around and backed her onto the bed. The sheets were stained and smelled off but neither noticed as suddenly clumsy hands tore at clothing, tossing it mindlessly aside. The only thing their minds registered was the need for skin.

Kate shuddered violently when his hand found her, fingers dipping between her wetness, not as smooth and sure as usual. He was fumbling, desperate like she'd never seen him. But she was just the same, wasn't she? Her hands trembled so much she could barely unbutton his shirt. When two fingers slipped inside of her she gave up and just touched the skin that she could find, something, anything.

She was on the brink in an embarrassingly short time, dimly realizing that at some point he'd managed to get her shirt and bra off. How was she completely naked and he still had his shirt and boxers? She growled her protest against his tongue as her hands roughly shoved at his boxers. He got the hint and moved to assist, making her whimper in loss when his thick fingers left her to try and make sense of the tangled mess his boxers had become.

They finally came off and, hesitation gone, he moved directly above her, thrusting in with absolute surety that he was in the right place.

He was.

He always was.

Her head tilted back against the scratchy pillow, a sound reverberating from her chest and out through her lips that had him gripping her hips and driving _hard_. Fucking her so damn perfectly that she felt tears forming and oh God she needed them to get through this. She needed to take down Bracken and his entire goddamn empire because she needed to be free. She was done. Done being afraid, being hunted, being someone who always had to look over her shoulder and never committed to anyone in fear of the worst happening. She needed to be free when she married Castle, needed to give every single cell of herself to him because he deserved nothing less. Deserved so much more than her, really.

She needed to be free so they could do _this_. Love each other. Whenever, wherever, however. Live their lives for each other, together, and not for a murder 15 years old.

Castle twisted his hips, rolled them just so and stars burst under her closed eyelids.

"Yes!" she ground out. "God please, Castle, more…" Her nails raked down his back, small lines of red.

"Fuck, Kate," he swore. "I love you. I love you so much."

"Love…" she gasped. "Love you too…"

He lay a sweaty hand on her breast, squeezed her nipple hard and her back arched, mouth falling open in a choked cry. He pounded into her with new fervor, knew they had to be quick, that they couldn't take the time to love each other as they wanted, worship every patch of soft, smooth skin. She hiked her legs higher, wrapped them around him so tight, heels digging into his back.

They fell fast and they fell together. Grunts and moans and sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin as they quaked, spasms seizing their bodies, cementing them as one for a few glorious moments. Then he was pulling out of her, way too soon, her breathing not yet steady, eyes not yet focused. She watched dully as he stood on shaky legs and gathered their clothes, quickly pulling his on. He leaned down to kiss her, a deep, fiery, aching thing and then he was gone.

She lay on her back in the middle of the lopsided mattress staring blankly at the ceiling. Then she moved. Dressed quickly, mind blank. If she thought too hard… But she couldn't. All she could do, what she _had_ to do, was focus on the mission. She reached down to pick up the small bag they'd brought with them, took out a pair of scissors and a bottle of hair bleach and walked stiffly to the bathroom. She allowed herself a few scant seconds to handle her mother's ring.

This was it. It would all be worth it. It had to be.

And then she heard a creak and everything went to hell.

Bracken.

Bracken right there in their fugitive suite that still smelled of sweat and sex.

"Hello Detective."

Two men melted out from the shadows, weapons poised, not giving her an inch.

"Don't even think about it."

"Drop the scissors."

She had no choice. Oh God, Castle… had they got to him first? Out in the hall? How the hell had they got in the room? _When_ had they? Had they seen them? Heard her and Castle in the throes of… No, she'd checked the bathroom when they go in, they couldn't possibly have…

"Well I certainly see why Mr. Castle fought so hard to keep you around, Ms. Beckett," Bracken drawled. And his eyes, those cruel, cold eyes traversed the length of her body, slowly, up and down.

Her mouth went dry and she thought she was going to be sick. He'd seen them.

His two henchmen snickered, shifted on their feet, the heat of their gaze adding to the blaze of humiliation, disgust, horror.

"So wrapped up in each other you didn't even hear us."

Her last act of love with Castle before they moved on, became something new and these men… they'd destroyed it. She would never be able to look back on this night and remember anything but revilement, violation. Not Castle's soft skin or words of love. Not the feel of his weight bearing down on her and keeping her safe. No, she'd remember how they'd let their guard down and allowed evil men to poison their moment. It would just be a burn, three hungry sets of eyes stealing what was theirs, seeing their love and reducing it to nothing but sex.

Beckett wanted to scream. To lash out at them, beat them down until they admitted they'd witnessed love. Admittedly a rather twisted act of it, but love nonetheless. But she couldn't. If she made one move they would shoot her, she had no doubt and she couldn't do that to Castle. Because she knew that Castle had made it out somehow and would be coming back for her. She _knew_ because believing anything else would end her. If Castle were dead in the hallway she'd probably just lay down right there and let them finish her. What was the point in achieving justice if there was no world for her on the other side? A world without Castle was one she couldn't live in.

She blinked as Bracken continued, blathering on about truces and bargains and saving lives. Once again she was struck speechless, nauseated by his unparalleled gall. She'd never hated anyone so much as she despised this man. She continued to force words from her mouth as he persisted in making his case. She could feel the henchmen still leering at her and she felt like she was still naked, open and exposed to their lustful appetites. She kept her voice steady through the conversation, had to maintain her belief that everything would work out because if she cracked…

"I gotta tell you… Part of me really admires you," Bracken said. "Your moral certitude, the way you fight for what you believe in even knowing it's going to destroy you." He came closer. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. "The pure… feminine… wrath that fuels your sense of justice. Among other things." he added slowly, once more raking his eyes over her, staring down the edges of her hoody trying to see what he'd already seen. She shook with the effort to hold back and not just hit him. Beat his smirking face in until it was a bloody pulp. Have fun being President with a scarred, broken face. Her fists clenched so hard her knuckles turned white, fingernails digging into her palms until they bled while her teeth ground each other down.

He talked some more, pointless words because she knew how this was going to end.

"Fine. Then kill me. Do it. Pull the trigger." She dared. Kate Beckett was not going down with a whimper. Nothing short of her mortal enemy had the right to end her journey.

"I have people for that."

"I don't want them. I want you. Do it. Now. Or don't you have the balls?"

"And create physical evidence linking me to the crime scene? We both know I'm smarter than that."

He was too cowardly to give her even this.

He shook his head pityingly. He already considered her something of the past, another pathetic creature in the long line of lesser humans he'd had to clear from his path of righteousness. And then he moved even closer, _touched her face_ and she really did fear she'd throw up. Her mother's murderer. The man who'd ripped her apart and reshaped her into this thing she now was. Touching her face. Trailing his fingers down her neck, smirking again as he brushed against the side of her breast. His touch penetrated the layers of clothing and made her skin itch and crawl and burn. He lingered on her waist for a moment before giving a final squeeze and a sneer.

"Goodbye Kate."

He walked away.

The bastard couldn't even stay to witness her murder.

"The truth is gonna come out," she warned.

"There is no truth. Not anymore."

And he was gone.

Her blood ran cold. What if he was right? What if he really had won, would always win? For a brief second she considered giving up. She was so tired of this, of all of it. She couldn't handle always getting _so close_ only to have him saunter off into the distance, untouchable.

His two cronies were on her the moment he was gone, one holding her in a vice grip as the other forced something into her mouth.

Oh hell no.

She was _not_ going to die in a dirty, stained motel room. She once again fought the urge to fight, satisfied for now with the one punch she'd landed. She would play along, let them think they had her and then she would strike. They'd never see it coming.

She fluttered her eyes, convinced her body to relax, sway, drool the cheap whiskey down her chin. She let them touch her, paw at her with their grubby hands and knowing grins. They never tried to undress her thank god because that would have been too much. She could never look at Castle again knowing she'd let anyone… but they didn't. They fondled and squeezed and whispered that they liked how she screams but kept to their task. The gun was soon pressed against her temple and time was up.

Beckett let the rage fill her, the revulsion and degradation and depravity of the whole damn mess flooding her veins until she didn't even know what she was doing. She acted on instinct, her highly trained body battling the taint of alcohol and performing what it had been taught to do. She heard a crash and felt something wet, heard a wild shriek and was that really her? Then suddenly she was alone in a room filled only with the sound of her heavy breathing, surrounded by dead bodies. She'd enjoyed killing them. Spitting that pill onto the man's dead corpse. Firing again and again, the flash of her gun sparking light in her eyes.

Her vision blurred. Oh, shit… She touched her head and brought her hand into the line of her vision. She stared numbly at the bright red blood. She'd enjoyed it. She gagged. What did that make her? What could Castle think… Oh… But wait… Castle…! She turned towards the door and the room tilted on its axis, swimming sickeningly before her, putrid greens and yellows swirling together with new blood stains on the floor. She stepped forward, stumbled her way until she hit a wall, scrabbling for the door handle, swinging it open.

Castle. Castle. Castle.

She emptied out into the hallway and grasped the molding on the wall. Her stomach rolled and she was going to be sick, going to… But the floor was speeding towards her, slamming into her knees and she tried to cry out his name, I'm sorry Castle, I'm so sorry but she couldn't, couldn't see, couldn't move and oh god everything _hurt_. The world around her darkened, doubled and she felt her body giving up and slipping away when there he was.

Castle.

Castle calling her name, and touching her face so carefully, so sweetly. The world pitched sideways again and she was staring at the floor, hot blood trickling down her scalp, cheek, neck.

But it would be okay now. It would be alright after all because he was here. Castle was here with her, as he should be. It would all be worth it.

With Castle, she would always be alright.

The End.

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